


Trust My Rage

by JJGrace42



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon-based poetry, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJGrace42/pseuds/JJGrace42
Summary: Poem from Loki's perspective, based on his "trust my rage" line from Thor: Dark World.





	Trust My Rage

There were years with young bone, yours more worn and warm than mine,

When I’d stand in your shadow to feel the chill I didn’t know my body needed.

I should have realized why my skin needed the cold more than it needed love.

I should have used the curiosity I took from our mother.

I burned my blood instead, to keep it hot like yours.

You always bled gold, the ichor of the gods, and rightfully so

While my blood came jade and blue and too many shades of disappointment.

That’s a harsh color, disappointment, and your father taught me how it looks

It’s not quite yellow, but similar in the way it wound up my spine, between disc and bone

Maybe a bit more like the white of a blinding fire or the silver of cold steel.

But the feeling is quite like the color I see when I meet myself in a mirror.

I used to like my eyes until your father taught me why I shouldn’t,

And he taught that frequently and loudly and I learned to wait for him to finish.

Patience is another thing I took from our mother.

My anger is blue.

Sharp, cold, and the color that my skin cracked when I found the lie.

Your father’s anger was black at your war-bent mind

Your own anger red as he threw you down.

It was something you missed, but our mother’s anger was gold for you.

For me? She saved her anger then. But if she hadn’t?

Maybe your father’s black wouldn’t have eaten him whole.

Maybe my blue wouldn’t have slowed my blood.

Maybe your red wouldn’t have been so bold when the ice in my veins spoke.

I wish I hadn’t taken my clever mind from our mother.

You’d lost your red when you brought me home and it hurt to see that stranger,

Your father was familiar, black staining his lips and dripping down his words.

I hoped to see our mother’s gold, but she hid that from me.

Instead, I looked and saw my eyes staring back at me.

I took our mother’s silence, then, and taught it to myself

If only for a time to feel that colored sting.

My blue became familiar and painted my bitter lungs

Jailed behind sharp teeth, that blue tossed and turned and screamed

I bit it back in fury, but that just made it worse

So when the monster stepped by, my silver tongue turned blue

And that’s when I took our mother’s life, too.

So here’s my blue, Brother, and I ask for just one thing,

Trust my rage,

It’s all I have

I didn’t take it from our mother.


End file.
